


Scenario 21

by rideswraptors



Series: Kastle Scenarios [21]
Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Explicit Sex, F/M, I like making them talk and then jump into bed, it's a theme now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 04:10:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16233935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rideswraptors/pseuds/rideswraptors
Summary: She came home to two agents standing outside her door. Obviously waiting for her. With a scowl, she let them in and only half listened to their diatribe about what they were doing there and why they needed to speak with her. Karen was in no mood for them, and she made that clear in no uncertain terms.





	Scenario 21

She came home to two agents standing outside her door. Obviously waiting for her. With a scowl, she let them in and only half listened to their diatribe about what they were doing there and why they needed to speak with her. Karen was in no mood for them, and she made that clear in no uncertain terms. 

 

“What do you know about William Russo?” 

 

“That he’s a slimy bastard who should be in jail.” 

 

“Do you know where he is?”

 

“Why would I know that?”

 

“Do you know where Frank Castle is?”

 

“Dead. Isn’t that what you told everyone?” 

 

“I’m in no mood for games, Ms. Page.”

 

“Me neither. It’s been a hell of a week. Drink?” 

 

“What do you know about Wilson Fisk?”

 

“Too much. Why?” 

 

“We have reason to believe that he is targeting you.” 

 

She snorted. “Well, thanks for the heads up.”

 

“We’d like to offer you protection--”

 

“I don’t need it.” 

 

“Ma’am, between your association with the newspaper and several wanted vigilantes, you’ve caused quite a stir and rounded up some trouble for yourself.” 

 

“That’s exactly why I never leave home without my .038. Do you have more questions or am I supposed to endure another lecture?” 

 

*

 

Frank landed on her fire escape, seemingly from the roof, not two minutes after they left. 

 

She laughed. “Typical. Drink?” 

 

He climbed in through her window. “You need to cut it out with that shit. I’ll have coffee.”

 

“Party pooper,” she grumbled. “I suppose you heard all that?” 

 

He didn’t really need to answer that.

 

“You know Fisk?” 

 

“As I said.” 

 

“Something to do with Murdock?”

 

“Something,” she acknowledged. “Got more than my fair share of personal experiences with him, too. Why do you want to know?” 

 

“Don’t. Met him in prison.” 

 

She lifted her brows at him as she filled the pot with water. “Really? That must have been quite the fight.” 

 

“Not much of a fight when one guy’s chained to a cot.” 

 

She huffed. “He never has paid attention to rules of decency. Don’t see why prison would change that.” 

 

“What’s your deal with him? Why’s he after you?” 

 

“Personal question or professional?” 

 

“Depends on your answer.” 

 

She leaned back against the counter with a small smile tugging on her lips. That statement was damn near romantic. 

 

“After Fisk got locked up, his second in command was handling his outside business. Cleaning house. Guy by the name of James Wesley.”

 

Frank nodded. “Heard the name. Never met him.”

 

“Yeah. You won’t.” 

 

He snorted. “Murdock get to ‘im?” 

 

“No.” she pushed off the counter, arms folded as she crossed to the couch. “I did.” Frank’s eyes flashed to hers, fury lining them. She shrugged as she sat. “Before I met Matt and Foggy, I worked for Union Allied Construction, which Fisk was using as a front for money laundering. I found emails and went to legal…” she sighed, “I met Matt and Foggy because they were the only ones who believed that I’d been framed. Anyway. Fisk knew who I was when he discovered my connection to Matt. I didn’t...I didn’t know he was the Daredevil at the time. I thought they just wanted me out of the picture. He--James Wesley kidnapped me, threatened me and the people I cared about, and I--I--”

 

“You killed him.”

 

“Yeah,” she breathed out, slumping down. “He just left the gun on the table. Thought I wouldn’t do it. Honestly, I didn’t think I would either. Not until it was in my hand.” 

 

“Good girl.” 

 

Karen lifted her eyes to him, heartbeat just this side of too fast for normal. Frank Castle was a beautiful male specimen, in her not so humble opinion. Perfectly cut chest and jaw, the slope of his back bespoke years of training, knowing how to take a hit and keep coming. He carried himself differently than most men. Not just as a trained military man, either. Despite the weight of his presence, there was a keen softness to him. A gentleness kids and animals would trust. Melted hearts, she was sure. She was oddly pleased with his stamp of approval on her act of survival. 

 

“Matt wouldn’t say that.” She reached out for her wine glass and took a sip to distract herself. 

 

“He doesn’t know.” It wasn’t a question and they both knew that. Karen didn’t need to confirm it. Frank nodded. “Yeah, I don’t like the sermon either.” 

 

That had them both chuckling appreciatively. If there was one thing Matt was definitely good at, it was a lecture on moral fortitude. He seemed to think he had the high ground because he sought forgiveness. But to Karen, that kind of thing didn’t matter. People still got hurt. At least Frank was honest about it. Honest with himself. With her. He didn’t do anything because it was “the right” thing to do. He did it because it had to be done and fuck you. It was a narrow-minded focus Karen often viewed as a reflection of her own struggle. She hadn’t just helped Frank because it was the right thing to do. It was probably  _ wrong _ on so many levels; Matt had said as much. But she had to do it. She was compelled, driven, drawn. It wasn’t something she could put down, walk away from, or simply ignore. Maybe Matt did feel that way about wearing the Devil’s mask, but he’d certainly never sat down and explained himself to her. Not the way Frank had. 

 

And with no concern for the repercussions. 

 

“Where’s your head at, Karen?”

 

She shook it, not really wanting to answer. Comparing Frank and Matt was like staring at a flash grenade; disorienting and uncomfortable. It ruined her. Because she couldn’t justify either of them. She couldn’t make sense of either of them, and yet her preference was clear and strong and it burned its way up her throat. She’d not found it in her to forgive Matt, who had protected and saved her, who protected innocent people, who maimed and didn’t kill. But Frank? She met his gaze. Frank Castle was drenched in blood and smelled of gunpowder. He’d taken out a swath of criminals without blinking, without hesitation, without remorse. He’d taken lives, but he’d protected her, saved her, cared about what happened to her. Matt’s crimes were forgivable. Frank’s weren’t. The distinction should have been clean and clear. 

 

And yet she hadn’t batted an eye when the Punisher climbed through her window for a late night chat. 

 

“Fisk tried to recruit me, you know,” he told her abruptly. Almost as if he was trying to make a point. What point that was, was absolutely beyond her.

 

“What stopped you?” 

 

“Other than the fact that he’s a dick? You.” 

 

She inhaled sharply, not at all ready for this conversation. Frank did things like that; bared his soul, bloody and raw, for anyone who really asked him. His emotions were visceral, at the surface. You didn’t need to guess how he felt about something. Maybe he was quiet and lonely and a killer, but his whole person brimmed with raw, unadulterated  _ feeling _ . Not like Matt at all. A lot like Kevin, though. 

 

“Frank--”

 

“That asshole’s not so different from Rawlins. Same arrogance, same contempt for life. He thinks we’re all animals. Maybe we are, but he’s not above it like he thinks. If I had the chance, I’d have put a shiv in his belly and left him to die in that hole. Just because he pissed me off. You tell me he’s got beef with you? That’s all the ammo I need.” 

 

She pulled in her lips, wetting them, feeling dizzy. “I don’t need you to do that.” 

 

“You heard Homeland as well as I did. He’s coming for you. So I’ll be waiting.” 

 

“Frank,” she breathed, fingering her wine glass, “I don’t want you killing for me. I don’t want you killing for anyone, but least of all for me.” 

 

Frank heaved a big shrug. “I won’t do anything without your say so. But if he threatens you? He’s done.” 

 

“Fisk is Matt’s problem. Not mine. The only reason he’d come after me is for Matt. He may not even know about Wesley.” She bobbled her head. “That I did it, anyway. You don’t need to get involved.” 

 

Frank took a couple decisive steps toward her, and then seemed to think better of it when the coffee pot beeped. His head reared back slightly, that sharp glint in his eye telling her he wasn’t finished with this conversation yet. He went and poured himself a cup of coffee. Then another for her. Fixed it how she liked it and everything.  Without thinking about it, she set aside her glass and went over to him. He stood there, hands braced on the counter, looking down at the coffee, not reacting when she came to stand behind him. She pressed her forehead between his shoulder blades. 

 

“Don’t tell me what I need,” he rumbled, voice vibrating through his big body. 

 

“I can’t lose you, Frank. I just can’t.” She slid her arms around his waist, clutching him. “Promise me you’ll let Matt handle Fisk.  _ Promise me _ .” It took a long moment, and he didn’t answer her at first. What he did was drop his hands to cover hers, threaded their fingers together, pulled her arms tighter around him. Which pulled her closer. His body was hard against her; everything about Frank seemed hard to her. Except in his eyes, which he deliberately withheld from her in that moment. 

 

“You still love him?”

 

She didn’t have to ask who he meant, but he hadn’t released her. That was a good sign. Maybe the reasoning behind it was stupid and misguided, but at least he wasn’t letting go. 

 

“Never said I did.”

 

“C’mon Karen--” he started with a sigh. His shoulders slumped, she felt even his body giving up on her. She shook him, twisting her head to the side to hook her chin on his shoulder, lips close to his cheek. 

 

“I _ never _ said that, Frank. Not once.” She watched him shake his head, rueful and frustrated, unable to look at her. Karen didn’t like that at all. She pulled her arms from his, lips quirking at his grumble of protest. He didn’t have to protest for long. Karen wedged herself between the counter and his person, blocking him from his coffee and morose contemplation of all things Matt Murdock. She kept her hand between them, pressed against his chest, her eyes on his even when she felt his hands brush against her hips. 

 

“Why are you here?” she asked, so quietly she almost didn’t hear herself. But she didn’t take her eyes off him. Karen kept him level, kept him honest. Ball was in his court now. Inexplicably, he raised a hand to her cheek, thumb brushing over her cheekbone, moving back to her hair, tucking a lock behind her ear and trailing down the length to the tip. His eyes followed his hand’s progress.  

 

“Lieberman called. Said you had visitors.” 

 

“You’re not here because of DHS, Frank. Don’t stop being honest with me now.” 

 

His fingers grazed her neck, she leaned into his touch, letting her head tilt back for him. His thumb pressed against her jaw. She pushed her hips against his, loving the widening flash of his eyes in response. 

 

“I was worried. I missed you. I wanted to see you. I’m used to seeing you. It’s weird not seeing you. Seeing you helps me sleep.” 

 

Her smile grew and her heart beat faster with every casual confession from his lips. He spoke each one like it was natural, as if it couldn’t be helped, as if there couldn’t possibly be another answer. 

 

“You sleep better after you see me?” she whispered, a little stunned by that one. His only answer was a sharp nod, softer lines around his eyes and mouth. There he was. There was Frank. She bit her lip. Didn’t want to lie. “I sleep worse.” His throat worked hard to swallow. Karen let her hands drift upward, stroking more than anything else. “I never know when I’ll see you again. Never know what you’re about to walk into. Never know who’s hurting you or why.” His cheek twitched, a tug at his lip. Karen instinctively lifted fingers to smooth it away. “Can’t blame me for caring, Frank.” 

 

“I wish you cared  _ less _ ,” he hissed, low and rough at her like his voice was being wrenched from his throat. 

 

“I don’t.” 

 

“Caring about me has brought a lot of people a lot of pain. Including you.” 

 

Karen narrowed her eyes. “ _ Caring _ about you? Is the best decision I have made to date. I’ll never regret that decision. Do I hate some of the things you do? Yeah. I do. But I know why you do it, and you never lie to me. No matter how ugly it is, no matter how bloody your hands are, you still come to me. You ask me for help. You never lie to me.”  

 

“Murdock--”

 

“He lied to me. Tried to decide what I could and couldn’t know. What I could and couldn’t do. He treated me like some porcelain doll he could toy around with, live in a fantasy world with. He didn’t  _ want _ to help you.”

 

“He wanted to protect you.”

 

“I’m not some prize for his holy war, Frank. Fuck that.” 

 

“I never said you were. I just meant that I can’t really blame him.” 

 

“I’m not fragile.” 

 

“No you’re fucking not.” 

 

“You think I’m better off without you, don’t you? Did you pull that shit with Maria, too?”

 

“No,” he snapped, “to both of those questions. No. But it’s like I told you, I’m old school. I think you should be out there, living your life, seeing friends, staying at home and taking care of some kids while yer old man takes care of you. You deserve more than a shitstorm of death and blood and ugly, Karen.”

 

“Do you think I just  _ fell _ into this? That I made a wrong turn somewhere and ended up in Wonderland like some idiot?” She grabbed his arm. “Frank, I chose this. Over and over and over again. I chose this. I chose you. I knew what you were capable of, and I still chose you.”

 

His hand landed on hers, slid up her forearm and he considered.

 

“You’d better tell me to leave now.”

 

“No.”

 

“You sure? Cause if we do this--Karen, I won’t give you up. I won’t walk away. I’m not  _ nice _ like Murdock. If you’re mine, you’re mine, and that’s the end of it. Won’t be anywhere you can hide from me.” She slid her hands up to his neck and he caught her around both wrists. 

 

“Don’t wanna hide from you.” 

 

“Karen--”

 

“Both hands, Frank. Both hands.”

 

He used his hold on her to bring her mouth to his, and they stayed like that for a long while. Lips meshing, tongues reaching and tangling together. Frank kissed like he did everything else: with precision and ferocity, like he could pull her into himself and keep her there. Keep her safe. His grip on her wrists was tight, but when she moaned into his mouth, her fingers reaching for his, Frank guided her hands around his neck. He latched onto her upper lip, letting her bite on his lower one. She dragged her lips against his, and he kissed a path down her cheek and jaw to her neck. Karen whined, pressing herself against him, feeling a little desperate and crazed, dizzy from how much she wanted him. 

 

It was like he’d flipped a switch in her, turning her from a sane, rational woman, to a writhing puddle of nerves and need. From a goddamn kiss. Fully clothed and in her kitchen. A completely broken part of her brain thought she could come right there, his hands slipping up her shirt, tongue invading her mouth, body straining against his. 

 

“ _ Karen, _ ” he panted into her mouth, sounding just as wrecked as she felt. He’d ruined her already, completely, body and soul, for anyone else. There was no conceivable way she could ever leave him. Ever let him leave her. She grabbed his shirt tight in her hands, swaying as he pressed intermittent kisses to her lips. Hard, lingering pecks. Drugging. Hypnotic. Addicting. 

 

“Don’t make me beg you,” she pleaded, just a little terrified of releasing him. He twirled her hair around his finger, tugged on her chin to fuse their mouths back together, fingers still in her hair. 

 

Then he braced an arm around the small of her back, a band of steel that she couldn’t escape or loosen. He was walking them backward, guiding her where he wanted, her bedroom. They left a trail of clothes in their wake, sighs and gasps perfuming the air around them. He felt amazing, made her feel amazing and sexy. Desirable. Karen had never felt desirable in her life, not like this. Men had called her “darling” and “honey” and “angel” and “sweetheart.” Precious words with gentle touches, and too many promises they couldn’t keep. 

 

Frank ripped at her clothes. Frank bruised her skin and bit her neck. Frank told her how good she tasted, how tight she was around his fingers, how hot she looked under him. He said filthy, real things that had her melting into his touch, fluid running hot and slick down her thighs. She was sopping wet for him. Frank was big, bigger than she’d had before, but he slid into her like it was nothing. Her body was that eager for him. She nearly cried when he bottomed out and jerked into her viciously. 

 

“ _ Fuck that’s good _ ,” he growled. Instead of elaborating, he caught her mouth in an open, sloppy kiss that had her bucking and whining against him. Frank chuckled lowly, frustrating her efforts by holding perfectly still above her, muscles tensed and braced. She groaned and fucked herself on him, with the little range of motion he would allow. It wasn’t deep enough, hard enough, fast enough. 

 

“Frank!” she shrieked, fed up with his bullshit. 

 

He wasn’t laughing at her anymore. He dropped his full weight on her, and they rolled, grappling to get on top. Karen couldn’t honestly say who she wanted to win, but when he pinned her and shoved himself inside her balls deep, it tasted like success. They twined their arms around each other, clutching  and holding on to give him more leverage as he pistoned into her hard and deep. Karen was so focused on getting him deeper, pushing him further, that she couldn’t process anything else. Couldn’t even hear the noise of the city outside, the sirens, barely heard his ragged breathing in her ear. Shit, he sounded so deep and sexy and male, and she wanted to tear him apart. Stitch him back together. Leave him so broken he’d have to come back to her for a fix. 

 

“C’mon, baby,” he rasped in her ear, “let go for me. Le’go.” 

 

She was chanting his name, digging her nails into his skin, as her whole body tensed and shot apart around him. He crowed out his victory, dragging his tongue along her neck until he snagged her lips for a filthy kiss that left her dazed and pliant for him. He pounded into her, chasing his own release while she cooed in his ear, breathing encouragement into his mouth and neck. Her second orgasm was a weak wave that had her shuddering against him as he emptied into her. She sighed contentedly, pressing languorous, wet kisses to his lips and cheeks. 

 

“ _ Son of a bitch _ ,” he panted, seemingly unable to move off her. Karen could barely focus on that because her brain had shut down. 

 

“Uh-hmmm,” she purred in agreement, lifting her hips up against him. Frank grunted and pushed deeper in her, arms shaking. 

 

“Damn it, woman, don’t--” 

 

“What? Punisher can’t handle me?” 

 

Despite his sluggishness, his eyes flashed wickedly at her. Karen just smirked up at him, hands snaking down to cup his balls and squeeze lightly. He groaned for her again, head hanging, and it was music to her ears. 

 

“Yer gonna kill me, Karen.” 

 

She reached up to nip at his earlobe, massaging with her lips when he gasped. “Good death,” she cooed in his ear, “I’ll come with you.” 

 

“Baby, I can’t--

 

“Shhhh,” gently, she urged him onto his back. “My turn. Lemme take care of you, Frank. Hmm?” 

 

He nodded, letting her do as she liked. So Karen crawled on top of him, rubbing herself against him, letting her hands drift where they felt like drifting. She systematically pressed kisses to swaths of his skin, hands quick to follow, the taste of sweat and salt making her lick her lips. Her fingers squeezed at the curves of his muscles, danced along the divots. Karen felt his gaze on her, but didn’t acknowledge, just kept at her thorough exploration. She paid special attention to his scars, nuzzling into them, kissing each inch of them, dragging her tongue along the sensitive edges of them. She vaguely heard a grunt from Frank, but didn’t bother stopping. 

 

Ever slowly, she worked her way down, finding which spots were sensitive, which ones made him twitch, which ones didn’t. She sat back on her knees, curved over him, when she got to the V of his legs. She dragged her nails down his chest and thighs, slid them back to cup him. He’d been moving underneath her for some time, recovering, his hot gaze on her all the while. Karen didn’t dare stop, didn’t dare play with him like that. So she dropped her mouth to his balls, sucking and kissing each one in turn while her hand drifted over his dick. It twitched, hardening under her ministrations. 

 

“Karen, shit, don’t--” he cut himself off with a growl, body jerking under her. 

 

“Hush,” she chided, teasing him, “Let me do what I want.” Without warning, she licked a stripe up the underside of his dick, letting her tongue swirl around the head. He bucked and swore under his breath. 

 

Karen was not particularly a fan of giving blow jobs. But there was something about having a little power and control over Frank Castle that was intriguing. Addicting. Everything she did pulled a reaction from him. His eyes were black and hot on her, hands reaching for her neck and cupping her head, crooning at her. Just the smell of him was driving her a little bit crazy, but when she lifted her eyes to his, he squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his head, his dick hardening in her mouth. There he is.

 

“Fuck, Karen, just like that. Just---more---can you--?  _ Fuck _ \--” He could barely string a sentence together, and didn’t seem all that interested in trying much longer. She felt him tighten, felt the tension of his belly under her hands. So she pulled off, with a long lick and a kiss to his head.

 

Frank roared. His whole body crunched forward in protest, reaching for her, even as she adjusted herself astride his lap. He sucked and bit and kissed hungrily at her chest, hands squeezing her ass as she seated herself on him. Karen felt his answering groan reverberate in her chest, and she had to dip her head back. 

 

“Stretch me good, baby,” she gasped. She wrapped her arms around his head, keeping his mouth on her breasts while they rocked against each other. It wasn’t as rough and rowdy as their first round; just slow and deliberate. A rise of tide. Push and pull. All Karen could hear was the squeak of her bed and their totally wrecked breathing. Frank tipped his head back in the circle of her arms, he kissed her chin. 

 

“Perfect,” he whispered, voice full of grit and gravel. “Feels like I was made to fuck you.” 

 

She shut down that train of thought by shoving her tongue in his mouth, gyrating faster in his lap, trying to chase that building friction. Their orgasms were quieter, less intense, but no less satisfying. Frank came inside her, hips stuttering up into her, trying to get as deep as he could go. Before she could come down from her high, he was rolling them so she was tucked up against him. He nuzzled against her face and neck, nipping at her shoulder and collarbone. Karen nuzzled right back, feeling like a well-fed cat as she stretched out against him. She threw a leg over his even though his arm was heavy around her middle. 

 

“Mine,” he said quietly, biting down on her shoulder. Karen didn’t argue that point. She was feeling just as possessive.  

 

“Yours,” she agreed breathlessly. “Totally yours.” 

 

Frank shifted his head so that they were nose to nose, and she brushed the tips of them together playfully, pulling a small smile from him. But his eyes were fluttering shut, the lines of his face slackening tiredly. 

 

“You gonna be here when I wake up?” he murmured, his voice sleep heavy now. Anyone else might have thought it was an accusation, him calling her out for whatever behavior indicated she was ready to leave. Karen just let her eyes slide up and down his face, more precious to her than ever.  _ Seeing you helps me sleep.  _ He must dream of her, she thought idly. He must think he’d fallen into one of those dreams. Karen smoothed his hair back and kissed his forehead. 

 

“I’ll be here.” She let herself rest there. “I’ll be here.” 

  
  



End file.
